


A Collection of Bledgeup

by BlueDysania



Series: Collections of [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bone Etching, Crossdressing, Edge is a Great Cook, Fluff, Insomnia, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, OT3, Pre-Relationship, Prodigy Sans, Skeletons with Tails, Sleepy sans, Subspace, Thrall Sans, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDysania/pseuds/BlueDysania
Summary: scenes of varying length and genre featuring Edge, Red, and Sans!tags will be added with each chapter, warnings in the Notes if needed, as well as a NSFW in the title of any chapter that requires it.Chapter 5: Sans had resisted for a long time... but he couldn't help but look.





	1. Bodyguards and a Prodigy

**Author's Note:**

> Requests OPEN. See bottom Notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Red Aster are prestigious bodyguards from the Royalty Guards company. Their latest contract is the socially awkward, shy prodigy son of the Royal Scientist, the target of assassins and hitmen for his work. It's just another job... at first.

Edge turned off the burner and deftly plated the eggs and bacon onto three plates. A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall and he turned to distribute the plates onto the island in front of the chairs lined on the other side. Wiping his hands with a towel, he tossed it onto the counter he would clean as soon as he collected his charge.

Taking a look through the window that led to the balcony and the view of the sea beyond it, he found himself once again appreciating the beauty of it as he rounded the couch and knocked on the door that led to the suite bedroom.

"Doctor Serif." He called out and waited five seconds before opening the door, as per his usual routine. Privacy had ceased to be much of an issue with this client, something he found highly efficient. And this time he didn't have to worry about walking into the room and seeing anything indecent.

The room was soft on the eye, shaded in the hotel's blue and seafoam green hues. The morning seaside light laying across his charge's legs drew his eyes to the window. He walked around the bed to the window and opened it quietly, surveying the sea and beach below.

The fresh sea air swiftly filled the room and likely permeated the rest of the presidential suite. Edge had to hand it to his charge, he really did know the best hotels and their best rooms when it came to comfort and relaxation; even after he'd made the list of hotels that had met his security standards.

Edge turned and strode over to the bed. He took a moment to simply gaze down at his charge.

Sans Serif had curled himself into the swath of blankets, hugging a pillow as if it were a teddy bear. Edge had learned months ago to request extra pillows. Sans liked being surrounded by pillows, mixing them among the blankets like a pseudo-nest.

The look of peace on Sans' face stayed him for a few more seconds… but there was a schedule to keep. Edge cleared his throat, settling a hand on Sans' shoulder.

"Doctor Serif, it is time to get up."

Large sockets slowly opened to reveal the sleep-hazed eyelights within. Sans made a sleepy noise, shifting and rolling over with his pillow, "nnng-huu…"

Amused, Edge carefully began to peel back the sheets, "You have a meeting in three hours and your breakfast will get cold if you do not get up."

Sans huffed but did sit up with a groan muffled into the pillow.

"Very good. I need to check in with my brother, please come to the kitchen after you dress."

He waited for Sans to nod before excusing himself. He turned into the kitchen as he shot off a text to Red and then set about swiftly cleaning the evidence of his cooking. Edge finishes just as a series of rapid knocks hit the door. He doesn't bother opening the door, turning his head as a pop (for his benefit, he knows Red can do it without a sound and without warning) of displaced air marked his brother's sudden appearance beside him.

"conference room is clear, Boss, checked it over myself. got our people in their now."

"Good. Time?"

"not a big one, 'bout fifteen minutes to look it over twice."

They nodded in unison. Papyrus would escort Sans to the conference room and Red would go on ahead twenty minutes before them to recheck the room one last time before they arrive.

"lil' blue up yet?" Red questioned, already heading for the bedroom.

"He should be." Sans had an exasperating quality to fall asleep left and right and yet inexplicably be utterly prepared to go at the last minute. It was frustrating sometimes but with the prodigy's unfortunate insomnia as of yet uncurable, though they had tried a couple of tricks so far, Red convinced him to let it go.

Sans Serif was brilliant, a genius; and he chose to use his mind toward the betterment of the common monster. Small changes here and a few tweaks there, bringing comfort and safety for those who could not otherwise afford it.

It was no wonder his life was being threatened.

It made Edge tense, looking toward the door that Red had closed behind him. His breath suddenly left him in something like relief when it swung open and his brother emerged, tugging along the smaller skeleton who looked half-asleep still.

Another bad night then, Edge supposed, judging by the darker scoring of blue under Sans' sockets. Red met his gaze and he could tell Red had wanted to shove their charge straight back into bed so he could sleep by the strain in his grin.

Sans and Red both took a seat and Edge preened when Sans took a bite and sighed happily.

"sure you aren't a chef or something, Edge?"

"Cooking is an interest of mine, yes, but not something I wish to pursue as a career." He admitted.

Sans took another bite, "well… i think you'd be great at it."

The sincerity was more flattering than the flowery words he had heard from previous clients, usually followed by a proposal that he work for them permanently. He smiled, unable to help himself, "Thank you."

His brother was smiling too, leaning back and watching them both with appraising eyelights. Edge waited for Sans to return to his breakfast before frowning at him. This was not encouragement, he was not encouraging this… this easy magnetism between them.

They had a contract and once it was over… they would be leaving.

Red's smile turned, small and almost sad but it quickly hiked back up into a smirk as Sans turned to him, asking about the conference that was in less than two hours now.

If Sans had noticed their attention to him moving slightly over the line of professional business in the last few weeks then the smaller skeleton didn't show it. It was how Edge convinced Red to leave it be.

Sans was an ideal client. He was understanding of their position and obeying their strict rules put in place for his own safety, but he also showed them a consideration that was rare. He treated them with respect and care in turn. Red had quickly gotten attached and Edge was not eager to admit he had gotten just as attached too.

They didn't want to compromise this job and it was no longer about their flawless track record and reputation.

Edge turned toward the sink to hide his frown.

It was a half-an-hour before the conference, all of them getting ready to leave that Sans yawned, using a hand to hold himself against the wall for balance. Red's pun fell flat and Sans rubbed at a socket, apologizing quietly.

"heh, maybe I should grab a coffee or something before we leave." He mumbled, straightening his tie.

Edge caught the scowl on Red's face as he turned and made his way into the kitchen. After the conference, Sans was expected to take a tour of the local laboratory and then attend a celebratory dinner party with the scientists who would, ideally, be receiving Sans' sign off on the newly installed water purification generator.

There would be no time for their charge to get any sleep and he highly doubted Sans would be sleeping very well tonight either.

On the other hand… Edge's mind buzzed with thought, going through the motions of checking his own gear and suit.

"Just one cup, Red." He called out and Sans looked up at him questioningly, pleadingly if the droop in his sockets were any indication. "I am canceling the laboratory tour and rescheduling it for a later date."

"w-wha-"

"We generally require a two-week notice for any building with more than two floors to go through a security check."

"it's just a lab, really private. don't they have their own security checks too?" Sans looked curious, another aspect Edge appreciated. He did not tolerate clients who were fool-hardy.

"That is true. However, I will not risk your life on someone else's security system. We will inform them of our procedures. Once I have cleared it, they will have their tour." He finished with a nod.

Sans looked unsure but nodded in acquiesce, "okay."

A steaming cup of coffee was placed into Sans' hands and Red grinned roguishly, "that means you got all afternoon to sleep, sweetheart."

Sans, ironically, seemed to wake up more at that. White eyelights darted up to him and Edge nodded his agreement.

Red took a step back, glancing at his wrist, "alrigh' see you in twenty." And disappeared.

Sans and Edge waited in silence, small sips of coffee punctuating the air every now and then.

"… thank you."

Edge looked away from the balcony and let a smirk curl his fangs at the averted eyelights and pale shade of blue on Sans' face.

"Of course."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of an abrupt ending but anything else might have dragged it down a bit. :3
> 
> reviews inspire! :3


	2. In Your Thrall (mild NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thralls are considered disposable, utterly pitiful creatures. But in their land, there is one thrall treated like a treasure by the Prince and his mate. Muffet doesn't know what Edge could possibly be thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very, very mild NSFW.

Thralls were generally considered slaves.

They serve any number of purposes from being walking personal blood banks to loyal, if almost mindless, servants. They may be useful and somewhat needed when there are tasks to be done during the day but at the end of the night, thralls are dispensable.

Muffet sipped elegantly on her goblet of blood, lounging on one of the many chaise chairs that lay scattered amongst the walls of the ballroom. Sitting supine on the marble floor was her thrall, one of three, all linked back to her on fine golden chains wrapped around their wrists. Blood leaked sluggishly from a healing cut; the source of her freshly filled goblet.

She eyed them with a measure of distaste. Thralls were useful, yes, but such pitiful creatures. They rarely lasted. Being stripped of self and memory, they only obeyed until they turned to dust. She had, had these three for about two months now and already she could see the slouches in their posture dipping lower, the gauntness of their faces, and paled skin wrapped around bone like waxy paper.

And with no real sense of self, there was no hope, no wants, and no needs. Subsequently, each thrall lost all but one of their HoPe and so the sudden death of a thrall was no surprise; in fact it was expected.

They lived for their masters and even that didn't last if their masters did not remember to feed them their blood.

Such lowly pitiful creatures.

A glance around the room showed similar vampires with their thralls. All subservient and at their feet with dull, vacantly adoring eyes. It was how it had always been.

Which was why she could not understand what _he_ was thinking. The he in question being the monster at the head of the room where the Master of the House and Prince of Night sat regally on his throne.

Her dead heart throbbed at the sight of Edge Aster and his powerful, broad frame filling the seat of their highest order. To sit at his side… to have access to such power and riches. She could command the world at his side. She would even tolerate the rogue brother Edge had collared to himself instead of slaughtering his blood competition to the throne as was tradition.

Or perhaps she could kill Red for him and cut loose such a heavy burden from his shoulders.

Her lovely, red dyed fantasy stuttered as a small monster broke through the crowd and stepped daintily up the steps that led to the throne. In the macabre setting of shadows and fangs, the thrall that approached their Prince was blinding.

Muffet narrowed her eyes. Her thralls were dressed in common wear, much like most of the other thralls in the ballroom. Hers were even a better quality, as seamstress even she had standards that she would not allow her thralls to lower.

And as the best seamstress in the land, she could tell that what ordained the Prince's thrall, Sans, was spidersilk, pure and utterly resplendent in its weave. The design was simple but in its simplicity was beauty. A slender gown of white that glimmered the lightest shade of blue in the moonlight peeking through the windows, laced with indigo ribbon snugly at the chest and whispering across the floor, with draping sleeves and an indigo hued hood pulled over his head.

Edge's composed expression shifted ever so slightly as he looked down at his approaching thrall. Once the small monster reached his throne, there was a pause and then two hands reached out, one holding a goblet and the other brushing against his crossed legs in question.

Muffet nearly snarled. If she wasn't too much of a lady to ever snarl in public. The gall, for a thrall to touch their master without express permission. Yet, she watched as Edge leaned forward, lifting his hand to touch the thrall's face and reading the expression on his face. For everyone knew, despite the careful protection and distance that the thrall was kept in, that Sans was mute.

Sometimes the trauma of being transformed into a thrall did that.

Muffet swallowed roughly, sliding her eyes away. A deep well of relief hid within her. If that irritating little thrall had been able to speak freely… she shook her head and took a deep gulp from her goblet to steady her nerves.

Glancing back up at the Prince, she felt irritation at herself rise as well.

Edge had lifted the little one into his arms and the thrall was astride his lap and curled up against his chest. She watched enviously as the goblet was raised in question again and Edge said something. The little thrall brought the goblet to their own mouth, taking a decent amount of the blood and then raised his head, toward Edge.

Muffet knew she was not the only one watching as Edge took the thrall into a deep kiss, a drop of blood escaping their locked fangs. Her own fangs lengthened at the thought of feeding the Prince with her own mouth.

She tugged harshly at one of her thrall and pulled him upward. To satisfy the ache, she sunk her fangs into the thrall's neck, feeding deeply. Perhaps she would let it die and imagine it was Sans turning to dust under her hands.

If only she had gone herself a year ago instead of sending ghouls to finish the job for her. Sans would have been dead and long gone!

"well ain't _this_ an' interestin' sight."

The low, heavy drawl struck Muffet from her anger and she let the drained thrall drop from her arms. She turned and swallowed roughly, fighting a full-body flinch at Red Aster leaning over the high backing of the chaise. Right over her and she hadn't even noticed.

A small part of her trembled at the predator that watched her with a singular eyelight pulsing with bloodlust. They were both vampire but there was no question who the stronger was here. Despite her avid thoughts on Red's uselessness and lack of propriety, deep down she knew that there was more than one reason that both Aster brothers were alive after succession of the throne.

It had everything to do with the cold chill that emanated from the vampire motionlessly watching her.

Muffet breathed in, steadied herself, and then relaxed as best she could against the chaise cushions, "My Lord Red, what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Red's smirk widened, massive fangs glinting in the candlelight, and when he spoke it was casual and belayed the black look in his sockets. "saw yer starin' daggers in my brother's direction… and when yer about ta break one of his Rules of the House. unless… yer weren' glaring at my brother. who _were_ yer lookin' at, seamstress?"

Muffet felt her blood turn to ice as Red began leaning down, closer and closer until Muffet was pressing herself into the cushions to escape the pressure of his power. The knowledge that he could kill her right here and no one would bat an eye was suddenly real in a way it had never been.

Her mouth opened but no sound escaped her. Did he _know_? Was she looking at death?

"jealousy is so unattractive, lady. yer best grab that thrall before it dusts and get out of our home." Red's eyelight narrowed so sharply Muffet might swear it could cut her, "Edge won' be pleased ta hear 'bout yer breakin' his Rules… an' i'll ask for the pleasure."

Then he was gone, striding confidently around the chaise and parting the crowd without a word.

Muffet shakily drained her goblet and then raised her hand. One of the wandering servers appeared in a flash, royal service at its best.

"Gather my thrall, it can not walk." She said with a forcefully steadied voice. She hid her trembling hands by tightly gripping her parasol and the other harshly pulling on her two thrall still fit to travel. "Come." She demanded and kept her head held high as she exited the ballroom. Her pace was brisk but not fast enough to be called running away.

She forced herself not to glance back at the Prince and his mate and their damn thrall.

If only she had finished the job…

 

* * *

 

Red approached the throne with a crooked grin settled on his face. Edge raised a brow, quite aware that the seamstress that had been directing dark eyes in their direction was fleeing the gathering. When Red did nothing but let out a sharp, low laugh, Edge dismissed it from his mind. For the moment.

A soft touch to his arm that kept their lover secured to his chest drew his attention. Sans was holding the goblet up for Red in offering and when Red did nothing but tap a finger against the gold, casting a glance at him as it was Edge's goblet first and no one elses, Sans looked down unsurely.

Then slowly looked back up and made a quiet questioning hum in the back of his throat, arching his neck for access.

Glee shot through their bond and Edge caressed Sans' skull through the fabric of his hood as Red leaned down to lick the stripe of blood on their lover's jaw, whispering the quietest of affections.

They were making progress slow and steady. Every show of emotion, of want and need was celebrated. This act would be greatly rewarded once they were in the safe privacy of their rooms.

For now, Edge tapped decisively on the arm of his throne and lifted Sans higher. Red took Sans into a protective embrace as he seated himself on the arm with perfect balance. All the sex they had on this particular piece of furniture, and the thought sent a pulse of heat burning across their bond, made Red quite adept at it.

Once settled, Red pushed Sans' head into the crook of his neck and a purr that could only be known by the vibration of his bones let Edge know his brother's voyeuristic tendency had already been stroked. Sans quivered, and Edge watched, leaning against a closed fist, as the thrall licked at Red's vertebrae like a kitten, soft pants and a light blue flush on his cheeks.

"come on, sweetheart." Red growled, hot desire in his eyelight, "take what yer need."

Sans let out a whimper and opened his mouth, tiny fangs growing only a little longer and they sank into Red's neck with a slowness Edge could define as loving. He hoped the emotion was returning to Sans, that the part of him submerged by the thrall was remembering the love they'd had between them before that night.

A mental wave of reassurance coaxed Edge away from recalling the night that had upturned their lives and he focused on the audible pulls of blood Sans was taking from Red.

" _fuck_. yeah, baby, that's it…" Red moaned, tilting his head back further and Edge felt a stirring in his pelvis from the sight. The sweet, slow pace was a pleasurable torture and Sans was completely oblivious to it. Edge could attest to the intoxicating feeling of such a trusting, fragile being feeding from him gently and he ached to return to their chambers and have his turn; after taking care of his mate's ridiculously high libido.

Red met his gaze and he could see the equal desire on Red's face. Not just for him. But they wouldn't touch Sans, not until he was whole again. Not until the thrall had been taken out of him. To take Sans and not know if he truly desired them… it was unthinkable.

They both waited eagerly for the day they could sink their fangs into their lover once more and have him mindless from pleasure wrought between them; and _nothing_ else.

They were already doing better than Alphys had predicted in their first year and they had all their immortal lives to continue nurturing Sans back. It would heal the wounds in their own blackened Souls. Their decision to turn Sans into a thrall was one that haunted them.

Edge narrowed his eyelights, uncaring of the shadows pooling under his throne and sending the nearest vampires skittering back.

If they ever found the one that had sent those ghouls after their lover… not even mercy would be enough to save them.

A cool hand touched his face, calming the shadows into stillness once more and Edge turned his head, lightly grazing his fangs against Sans's palm. Sans was watching him, a small ruby frown on his face and he rumbled softly, "All is well."

Sans hesitated before nodding and tucking himself back against his chest. Purring rose from the small skeleton, attempting to soothe him and Edge stroked his spine in wordless thanks. Even now, he was so, so kind.

Red draped an arm around his neck, resting against his broad shoulder. It was not real, Red was prepared to kill anything that took one step across the unspoken border around the dais, but until the tiny pinpricked bite mark healed and the bite licked clean Red would remain at his side.

Edge sat on his throne, mate and lover within his possession, and smiled darkly into the candlelight. All was as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews inspire! :3


	3. Etching Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protea. Gladiolus. Daffodil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about getting tattoos or how to treat them afterwards, so don't try and translate this to real life! these are skeleton monsters with magic!

Sans wasn't sure about this idea anymore.

Which was ironic since it had been his idea to begin with.

 

He'd seen the bone etchings his mates wore. Once hidden beneath their clothing and armor or else allow others to exploit the weaknesses they represented, now both exposed them for all to see; and dare to question them. Sans had asked about them once.

It was something they'd done together. Monsters didn't have a set symbol of love or marriage like the wedding rings humans wore. They'd etched into their bones symbols that they believed to personify the other in their eyes.

Edge had a beautifully detailed protea blossom on his left scapula. _Change, transformation. Daring, resourcefulness. Diversity, courage._ It was a demanding flower to stand up too. Edge wore it's delicate appearance like the warrior he was and it did nothing to detract from the iron will evident in his gaze.

And Red had a beautiful, long gladiolus on his left arm. The stem flowed up his ulna and radius while the bloom trailed up his humerus. _Strength of character, faithfulness, and honor_. All things that Red sheepishly tried to deny but Sans thought they spoke to the truest parts of Red. And _remembrance_ … yes, both he and Red knew something about that.

Perhaps, when he'd asked about them, they saw something in his expression because the next thing he knew Red was detailing what exactly a bone etching entailed. Sans had cringed half-way through the explanation and forced himself to keep listening.

It would _hurt_ , badly, it would still hurt days afterwards on whatever area the etching was done on, and would require a very long recovery period for those bones. The trauma was intense for both body and magic. Intent needed to be poured into the etching, to convince it that the etching was willing and not a wound. And that Intent had to be reciprocated by the monster who was getting the etching, while in pain.

And it might take _more than one_ etching, depending on the symbol and how well it was received by the person getting it.

Sans knew he didn't imagine the look of relief on their faces when he let the subject drop. He felt a little bad when he approached them a few days later and asked for one. And they agreed on a few conditions.

 

Sans thought he had been prepared when Red led him down to the basement. Edge was bent over one of the counters, doing something out of view, while he was instructed to take off his shorts. It was all very professional. Red gathered his shorts, socks, and slippers and tucked them to the side. He laid down on the padded bench, on his side, Red told him. He let Red split his legs and felt the first stirring of anxiety when both of his ankles and waist were strapped down to the bench, tighter than comfortable but Red assured him it was necessary.

"if yer still wanna do this." Red added and let out a sigh when Sans nodded resolutely. "alrigh'. jus'… try and relax sweetheart." Red took a seat on the swivel chair near where Sans' head lay on a fluffy pillow. He summoned a large pile of cinnabunnies on a plate from another stretch of counter and balanced it on his legs.

Sans jumped, as much as he could, when something cold brushed down his exposed legs. He looked down and saw Edge running a damp cloth over his left leg. He smelled something like disinfectant and a felt a strange tingling trail after the cloth and his left was suddenly heavier than before.

Edge looked over at him, a focused look in his sockets, "Are you ready?"

"yup."

A gloved hand caressed his skull and Edge turned back toward the counter he'd been leaning over earlier, the sound of metal and a hiss of compressed air telling him it was likely the etching wand. Red cupped his face and guided him to lay his head back down on the pillow, facing him.

"heh. better yer don' watch, kay?" The smile was slightly strained but Sans didn't mind. He appreciated the reassurance. "just don' look over. relax."

The muted feeling of a hand gripping just above his knee made him suck in a breath. Something cold and small touched his fibula. And the sound of whirring filled the air.

 

Sans felt the air leave him in a rush and choked out a cry.

It _h u r t_.

 

His 1 HP flashed in his mind and for a brief minute, he struggled. Panicking against the pain. He couldn't _move_. His lower body was all but immobilized and his arms were now gripped hard with blue magic, pinning him to the padded bench.

He couldn’t get _away_.

The whirring increased, his leg burned as the awful sound of bone being drilled away filled his skull.

A brief pause and it aches ~~like an old scar that is and isn't real~~ like fire and dust.

He remembers how to speak.

Sans opened his mouth to scream for help, for his mates, and tasted cinnamon. He swallowed the healing food instinctively and familiar fingers push another scrap of the cinnabunny into his mouth. He swallows around a sob and hears Red hushing him.

"shh, sweetheart, it's alrigh'. it's okay. jus' look at me. eyes on me, sweetheart."

Sans cracks open his sockets and sees the fuzzy outline of Red right in front of him. He makes a whine around the cinnabunny steadily being fed to him.

"do yer wanna stop? we can stop." Red says and the pressure against his leg is lessened though still present.

They can stop. Sans doesn't have to go through with it. He can tell them no, he doesn't want it anymore, and they'll take care of him with no judgement whatsoever.

Sans shakes his head, "n-no. wa… want i-it."

Red twines their fingers in one hand and places the plate on the clear area of the bench, another cinnabunny at the ready. Red nods off to the side, to Edge, and the whirring returns to normal. Sans lets the tears fall and accepts the bits of food Red feeds him as time passes.

Somehow… somehow it got easier. The pain feels disconnected and he's so tired. The pain is no less, but his sockets droop and it seems less important. Warm hands projecting _safety_ and _affection_ stroke his skull.

"that's okay… jus' relax… it's almost done… that's right… shh…"

The gravelly timber soothed him and he nuzzled into the hands, making a noise he hoped conveyed his thanks. His answer is a chuckle and Sans sinks into the warmth that is Red's love for him. He thinks that this isn't so bad after all.

 

Sans muzzily resurfaces sometime later. And he is no longer strapped in or being held down. Swift, careful hands that feel like protecting and sureness are wrapping something around his entire left leg. The wrapping feels like ice against his hot bones and its dead weight that he couldn't shift if he tried.

And the _ache_. He feels like his leg is pulsing in time with his Soul.

 

Laying on the couch a full day later? The ache hasn't ceased in the slightest. He lays on his right, skull cushioned in Edge's lap. He's been officially ordered to remain on the couch until they tell him he can get off it. Basically, when he can hold his own weight up.

A smattering of white cloth was wound around his leg, glowing a faint green, and it renewed the ache with each daily change of the bandages. Except for the pain, it's actually kind of nice to just be taken care of like this.

Sans turns his head to look upwards at Edge. He'd only just snapped back to coherence this morning, or so he'd been told. Edge and Red were quick to make sure he had everything he needed. Currently he was bundled in a fleece blanket, though his bandaged leg lay atop the blanket, and magic full of sustenance.

He felt drowsy again and Edge stroked his forehead.

"Go to sleep. There is no use being awake to suffer." Edge murmured. A small smile curled his fangs, "I am so proud of you, Sans."

Sans smiled, closing his sockets at Edge's behest and completely ignorant of the purring rattling in his chest. Before he fell asleep, Sans asked, "wha… did ya make…?"

 

The small skeleton was already asleep by the time Edge answered.

 

"Daffodils."


	4. A Cute Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans has a stubby tail.
> 
> Red and Edge love it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift for [LadyPterosaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPterosaur/pseuds/LadyPterosaur) inspired by one of the their headcanons.

Red found Sans in the bathroom, leaving Edge to pack away the leftover lasagna downstairs. He leaned silently on the doorframe, watching as Sans twisted and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Their littlest had a worrisome frown on his face as he studied his own body.

More precisely, his tail.

Red let his own eyelight look down as well and his tail twitched in sympathy. Red's tail was long, longer than his legs even. It was thickly boned and tapered into a sharp point with a beautiful set of tri-spines running down it's length. Sans had mentioned more than once how beautiful it was and it made Red preen. In Underfell he had learned to use it as an extension of himself, a weapon or a third hand. No one but Edge had ever complimented it with such a word before.

Looking at Sans' tail made him want to do two things simultaneously. Uncharacteristically coo and hold Sans close or snarl and tear apart the one responsible for its current state.

At the base of Sans' spine was the beginnings of a slender tail and that's all there was.

By Sans own whispered admission, he'd had a whole tail once but during an experiment where it had wiggled free of it's bindings Gaster had deemed it too troublesome and promptly cut most of its length away.

The horror of it was not lost on them though Red felt it keener. Knowing the pain from simply getting it caught in a closing door the idea of someone taking a tool and hacking part of it off made him feel faint. And to make it worse, Gaster had fashioned a harness and basically pinned the remainder of it against his pelvic bridle and his femur.

When Red and Edge had asked to see, needing to see and know by their own eyes what Sans hid out of shame and embarrassment, they'd been stunned to see the harness still on.

"it… it hides it best." Sans had whispered, on the verge of tears.

Red had held Sans then and Edge couldn't get the harness off fast enough but the damage had been done long ago.

Where they might have been a single row of spines, the confined space had ground them down into round nubs and the unnatural angle causing the sections of bone to sit misaligned. The pain on Sans face and whimpers he couldn't hold inside when Edge gently tried to straightened the foot and a half tail told them it would be a long time before Sans could move it without pain.

The abrupt and sudden cut off was surgical and precise and at their prodding Sans admitted it still throbbed sometimes. The tail had grown slightly since it had been cut but that too had been hindered by the harness. No doubt Gaster's intent.

They'd spent the day inside and the night proving that Sans' wound past and present was nothing to be ashamed of; they loved every part of him exactly as he was. Edge burned the harness the next morning with Sans permission.

Since then, they'd taken to gently and carefully massaging the tail's misaligned sections and it was a relief to see that now the tail only had a slight curve at its base.

Red never missed a chance to tell Sans how adorable his tail was and watching the stubby tail wag was the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen.

"IF HE HAS WORN THE HARNESS FOR MOST OF LIFE, HE LIKELY HAS NOT LEARNED TO HIDE HIS EMOTIONS FROM IT." Edge had observed when Papyrus saw Sans' tail unconfined and free for the first time. Sans' tail had been wagging endlessly throughout the bone-crushing hug Papyrus had given him.

It only increased Red's habit of complimenting their littlest at every turn.

Right now, however, it was curled slightly inwards. Reflecting the anxiousness on Sans' face.

Pushing off the door, Red slid beside Sans. He ignored the wide-eyed expression of a monster caught doing something they shouldn't and rested his arms on the bathroom counter. Red didn't look directly at Sans, instead he looked through the mirror as Sans fidgeted in place until white eyelights met his red one.

"whatcha doin', sweetheart?"

Sans winced and twisted his hands in his sweatshirt, "just looking."

Red hummed thoughtfully and then moved closer, slowly twining his tail around the stubby one as much as he could. Sans shivered, a small smile twitching at his down-turned teeth. Red grinned, enjoying the sensitive slide of bones as Sans' tail swayed slightly.

"don' blame yer. love lookin' at yer, too."

Sans met his gaze through the mirror again and seemed at a loss.

Red sighed heavily, purposefully over-exaggerating his movements as he straightened and untwined himself from the smaller skeleton, "ah well. looks like we'll be at it again. i'll go get Boss."

He hid a smirk when he heard Sans pad after him.

"what? what are we doing?" Sans called out perplexed.

Red headed down the stairs and cocked his head back, single eyelight dancing with cheek.

"gonna have ta prove ta yer just how perfect yer are again, sweetheart." Red nearly cackled at the dark blue color that spread over Sans' skull, no doubt remembering just how he and Edge tended to do that. He looked over at the kitchen and found Edge standing there, a fire alight in his sockets. "don' worry…" Red purred, matching his brother's expression of excitement. "… we never get tired of it. now why don'cha go and pick some _toys_ out, alrigh'? we'll be up in a minute."

Sans squeaked, sockets darting between them, and then darted away.

Red burst into laughter as he caught sight of Sans' stubby tail wagging happily before he disappeared into the bedroom.


	5. Don't Skirt the Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans had resisted for a long time... but he couldn't help but look.

Sans was trying really hard to not look over at the mannequin display across from the racks of leather jackets they were currently browsing through. Edge was pulling them off the hangers, twisting them this way and that with a critical eye. Red was trailing nearby, studying some belts with various types of studs and spikes on them.

Sans chuckled to himself. It was funny sometimes. Red was as dangerous as he dressed himself to be, Sans knew better than to think otherwise, but it was hard to take the edgy look serious sometimes when he’d had the same skeleton purr just from wrapping around him and indulging in a lazy afternoon of crappy tv and junk food.

While personally he’d never been fond of leather or metal bits on his clothes that only applied when _he_ was wearing it. Sans had grown to be very fond of seeing it on the Asters.

“SANS. WHICH OF THESE LOOK BETTER WITH MY NEW BOOTS?”

Edge was holding up a black and a dark brown leather jacket, each with silver zippers. Sans looked from them to the polished high-heeled boots colored a deep rich red.

“you’re asking me?” Sans asked as he touched the soft, treated leather of the jackets.

Edge rolled his eyelights in Red’s direction where the older Aster was either ignoring the conversation or… well, no, he was probably just ignoring the conversation. “I NO LONGER TRUST MY BROTHER TO INFORM ME WHETHER OR NOT SOMETHING MATCHES. OR IS APPRORIATE.”

This got a reaction. “sayin’ the belt didn’t work out?” Red drawled, glancing in their direction as he plucked a vibrant red belt with shiny gold print on the ends and draped it over his tail with two others he’d picked out.

Edge bristled, “YOU DID NOT TELL ME WHAT THE ACRONYM MEANT.” Red’s smirk made Edge’s fangs grind and Sans was intrigued by the faint flush of color on Edge’s face. He’d wait until they got home to ask for the story but for now…

“i like the brown one.” Sans said and when Edge looked down at it, he continued, “it looks nice with your eyelight color too.”

Edge blinked said vibrant scarlet eyelights and they softened slightly. Edge put the black jacket back and took a couple sizes of the brown. Red wandered over with two belts in hand, nodding appreciatively. “really does.” Red confirmed.

Edge headed in the general direction of the changing rooms, looking through the racks he passed. He exchanged a grin with Red who followed after Edge when he called. Sans hesitated however as they wandered out of view, though he could still hear them talking.

Then he went to the edge of the aisle and peeked over at the display.

There were three mannequins, each in a colorful array of clothes, and each one wearing a skirt. His sockets were trained on the one on the right. The other two were too tight or short, but the third was… it was cute. It was gathered at the waist and fell to just below the knees in a dark brown. The best part was the pockets, both with a little pale gold metal circlet that served as the button snaps.

Sans had resisted for so long and it helped that he didn’t have a strong shopping urge, but it was so _cute_. Shuffling his feet across the divide in the sections, Sans got up close and tried to casually feel the fabric.

It was _soft_.

Sans let it go like it was on fire when a human couple rounded the corner. They were laughing and talking to themselves and passed him by as if they didn’t even see him but the hands he’d shoved into his perfectly normal jersey shorts were trembling from memory and his tail wrapped around his leg tightly

Being stopped while on a walk through the park and surrounded by a bunch of teenagers, male and female. Pushed by proximity into the trunk of a tree while they heckled and picked at his clothing. It had been a nice day with a warm sun and light breeze and he’d been excited to wear his sundress for the first time; all pastel yellow with an orange embroidered sun on the bottom. He’d saved up for weeks to buy it.

Cruel hands had torn it in a few places and their words chased him home through a panicked shortcut.

_“Wow, what a freak!”_

_“Isn’t this monster a **dude**?”_

_“ **Disgusting**!”_

Sans had thrown the torn dress at the bottom of his closet and buried it until he couldn’t see it. He hadn’t told anyone that story, not even his datemates. It had been a few months before they’d started dating and… well, he just didn’t want to deal with it. If he never mentioned it, neither of them would feel the need to fix anything.

He just didn’t see what the big deal was. Sans looked up at the skirt and then at the blouses and other assortment of clothes that were frilly and soft and wavy and what the Surface deemed to be female-exclusive clothing. Sans looked down at himself. Skeleton monsters didn’t have strict genders, they were simply… themselves.

But the humans didn’t seem to understand that. Sans preferred to be called he but why did that mean he couldn’t wear a dress or skirt? He would never understand humans.

A sigh left him and he headed toward the dressing room where Edge was just exiting. His mood lifted as he watched Edge turn and puff up theatrically for him and gave two thumbs up for fierceness and gave a few saucy puns that had Edge storming back into the changing room with a blush seared across his cheeks. He chuckled, waiting for the next piece to be paraded for him.

If he didn’t think about it, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it at all.

 

* * *

 

Red stepped up to the display and couldn’t help the lick of heat he felt at imagining Sans in the dark brown skirt. Fuck, it’d be fucking adorable. He’d doubled back after noticing Sans had tried to sneak off and found their datemate admiring the skirt display. He’d hung back, wondering if Sans even realized that he had the cutest little grin on his face. The longing had been evident.

Brushing a claw against the fabric, he glanced down the way at the couple that had unintentionally driven Sans off. The look of fear on Sans’ face when they’d walked by had been telling even if Red had nothing to base it off of. It was enough that the look had been there.

It took very little time to locate the rack that held the skirts and he plucked one off, finding one that would fit their lover immediately. He’d licked and touched those cute bones enough to know his exact size. Call it a gift, chuckled to himself, beelining toward the register.

He joined Sans at the changing room one transaction later, a neatly folded skirt tucked away into his interdimensional inventory. When Sans asked what had him so happy, suspicious, Red had only laughed.

“ask me again at home, sweetheart.” And winked.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, Comments, and Requests at [BlueDysania](http://bluedysania.tumblr.com/)


End file.
